


À Trois

by Cylin



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dominant Phasma, First Time, Happy go lucky Techie, Kyluxma, Multi, Pegging, Strap-Ons, Submissive Matt, Threesome - F/M/M, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:04:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9184954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cylin/pseuds/Cylin
Summary: The only reason she is here is solely because Techie is a lot braver than he looks and acts.But he approached her directly and unflinchingly and the sheer guts that took impressed her and made her curious. Once they spoke privately he was bold about his proposal and she has to admit it threw her off at first.It’s not every day one gets approached in this way after all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you sooo much to gentleman-caller (Oorsprong) and thewightknight for the wonderful beta job. This would've been a lot harder to read and understand without you.  
> Also great thanks and endless love to the dudes of the Dude Harem, for cheering and keeping me going even when I just wanted to throw this thing away.  
> THANK YOU!

 

Stares follow her as she walks along the corridors of the technician’s housing level.

She is off-duty, so wearing her armour is not officially required, but the Order is built on strict morality and unbending uniformity, and so she adheres to those unspoken rules and tries not to show her face amongst the ones beneath a certain level of military seniority. It just isn’t good for morale.

She only really makes exceptions for these two.

She didn’t anticipate, though, how much of a disturbance her appearance here would cause. But then maybe she should have, seeing as technicians and stormtroopers do not mix ordinarily.

The only reason she is here is solely because Techie is a lot braver than he looks and acts.

The man, although tall himself – and if he straightened up he would certainly tower over a lot of her own troops – seemed tiny when he stepped towards her in the officer’s lounge. How he had gotten in that first time, she still isn’t sure. Maybe during a repair?

But he approached her directly and unflinchingly and the sheer guts that took impressed her and made her curious.

Once they spoke privately he was bold about his proposal and she has to admit it threw her off at first.

It’s not every day one gets approached in this way after all.

She knew Matt, of course she did.

After all, he is the only technician to consistently win in altercations against her troopers. If he weren’t as volatile she would have requested him for the stormtrooper program. But this very nature made her apprehensive at first, despite Techie’s assurances that Matt was actually quite sweet and nice and overall a lovely person.

Still, Phasma was intrigued. So she asked to get to know them first, meet up a couple of times, casual and with no agenda before deciding on anything.

It turned out that Matt was actually quite pleasant in her presence. He seemed to be a bit awestruck which, obviously, was nice for her ego.

And she really did like Techie.

He was incredibly single-minded and stubborn, but had a deceptive air of innocence about him that oddly endeared him to her, although she usually did not go for _innocent_.

And yes, she is still secretly impressed with his courage the first time he stepped up to her table.

The three of them probably spend a lot more time in each other’s company than the proposal warranted since then. They just get along well, which is also rare for her and she enjoyes it immensely.

It might be wishful thinking on her part, but she is positive that even if she had refused they would still see each other when their schedules allowed.

Standing in front of one of the many nondescript doors she compares quarter numbers to make absolutely sure she has got the right door.

It would be no use startling an unsuspecting technician with her sudden appearance, only to find out she mixed up the designations. She might scare that tech to death and she’s not fond of the paperwork.

Once sure, she requests entry.

Techie opens the door, bare-chested, smiling broadly and completely ignoring the curious but fearful stare a technician is giving them, giving Phasma a wide berth.

“Come in, come in.” Techie beams, wide eyes clicking excitedly as they shift focus.

She has never been in their rooms before and is struck by the way the tiny, usually impersonal quarters have been taken over by various belongings, trinkets and an overall feel of homeliness.

Phasma never thought anyone could achieve this level of personalisation on a Star Destroyer.

Matt waits further back, leaning a bit strangely against a desk. He looks nervous, brimming with suppressed energy that makes him fidget, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying to be covert - but she notices. He waves in greeting, the gesture unsure.

Phasma can’t really blame him. Her armour doesn’t exactly make her appear very approachable.

She unclasps her helmet and smiles at him.

He instantly relaxes a little.

Techie looks her up and down and it occurs to her that he might not have actually ever seen her in full armour before.

“Would you like some help with – uh – this?” He asks, gesturing at her and then getting distracted by the panels reflecting the movement.

She tries to hide her smile, as he steps closer, seemingly looking at his reflection in her breast plate, and fails, snorting in mirth.

“Oh,” he mutters quickly, stepping back, “Sorry. I just – I just always saw you from afar. I didn’t know it would be this shiny up close.” His mechanical eyes click and focus again on the mirroring panels, obviously focusing on his image in them.

A bit of a vain brightbird, she thinks, amused.

“It’s fine, Techie, and yes, I’d love some help.” Not that she really needs it, but it is a nice gesture and also it seems to draw Matt closer, though he still seems strangely hesitant in his movements.

Once she is down to her black undersuit and moving a bit more freely – the stiff pieces of heavy armour stored to one side – they offer her something to drink, but she refuses.

They know why she’s here and so does she, and she only has the short break between her shift change this week, so her time is sadly limited. But she does appreciate the gesture and tells them so.

Techie beams again and Matt smiles his little and vaguely belligerent looking smile that  she now knows means he’s nervous and trying to hide it.

She steps up to him and firmly but carefully grips his biceps. He stills and Phasma can see his pulse jump in his throat.

She lets her hand relax, pulling coaxingly at the fabric as it drifts down.

“Want to lose that?” She asks with a warm mischievousness to her voice.

Matt’s gaze focuses on her face for a second, then slides away and he nods shyly at the floor.

Techie was right, he is sweet like this. Awkwardly sweet. The best kind, she decides.

He starts to undress quickly, getting his limbs caught in his clothes in his nervousness, so Techie sidles up to him, gives him a fierce hug and plants a deft kiss on his mouth. Matt chases after it as he pulls away.

“Love you,” Techie whispers, tightening his hug and Matt nods. He seems a little taciturn today.

Once he is fully naked he sits on the bed, balancing his weight a little gingerly to one side and tries not to stare at her, while still trying to get a good look.

Phasma hides her grin.

Techie slumps down on the bed, shuffling until he is behind Matt, slinging his long, thin arms around him loosely and resting his chin on Matt’s head, staring unabashedly.

“Isn’t she gorgeous, Mattie?” He sighs happily, grinning up at her. Matt nods, still trying to find a safe place to rest his eyes. Phasma almost feels sorry for him. Almost.

“Sill, you’re beautiful.” Techie declares honestly. Matt nods again, but he seems distracted by the muscles in her arms moving as she peels herself out of the undersuit. She flexes them for good measure and notices a small twitch between Matt’s legs.

One of Techie’s hands drifts down to Matt’s chest as Phasma hooks her fingers into the waistband of her underwear.

Techie’s fingers trace softly against Matt’s peaking nipple in a slow back and forth motion. Matt moans quietly, trying and failing to hold it back as he squirms under Techie’s touch.

Phasma isn’t sure if his reaction is Techie’s doing or hers as she lets her panties drop to the floor, or both.

Matt pants softly and Techie grins happily while she crosses her muscular arms over her chest to shimmy out of her bralette, letting that, too, drop unceremoniously on the floor. She stands before them completely naked.

Matt just stares, his mouth slightly open. He looks completely transfixed by her breasts.

The lifestyle she leads and the rigorous training she puts her body through means she has small breasts, firm and close to her body. She has never disliked them, but also never much cared about them, but the way Matt looks at her now, makes her feel elated and smug to have them.

His eyes are round and longingly focused as his hands twitch at his sides, but he seems unsure what is and isn’t allowed. His gaze skips up to her and he looks a little lost, but also very, very hungry.

Phasma steps closer until her knees brush his.

“You can touch me, Matt,” she purrs and Matt shivers at her tone, at the way she uses his name. It seems that he is still surprised anew every time that she knows it. As if she doesn’t know exactly who she takes to bed – or rather, who allows her into theirs.

Matt looks up at her and the almost crippling awe is back in his gaze.  He swallows before he hesitantly lifts trembling hands to her trim waist.

Phasma is not a small or delicate woman by far, and yet his hands are large and they almost span around her. It drives a sharp spike of arousal into her groin, pulling sharply inside between her hip bones, that he touches her so carefully and respectfully.

He sways forward a little until he can rest his cheek against her stomach and moans as she tightens the muscles underneath.

Matt’s hands trail up slowly enough for her to easily halt them if she so wished. He is so careful, almost fearful and it lights both protective and predatory sparks in her.

He rubs his slightly stubbly cheek against her stomach, buries his nose in her skin and breathes in as his arms encircle her, fingers spread wide against the well developed back muscles.

Phasma feels herself grow wet, feels her internal muscles working, tightening and relaxing in that wonderful dance towards heightening arousal. She can smell herself and when Matt takes another deep breath and holds her tighter for a moment, knows that he can smell her, too. The thought makes her whole skin come alive with an electric prickle.

“Matt?” She coaxes gently and he looks up at her, his gaze dreamy, yet eagerly alert.

“Lean back,” she directs gently but firmly, and he lets her go with reluctance, still gazing at her adoringly. He rests his weight on his elbows and is about to turn over when Techie stops him, rolling a barrier down his cock with deft fingers, pecking Matt on the nose while he leans over.

Matt frowns, looking down at his cock, puzzled, for a moment completely unmoving.

He looks slightly panicked when he looks back up, his gaze snapping rapidly between Techie and her.

“It’s alright, Love. Don’t worry. Sill and I talked about this. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want.” Techie assures him, stroking through his hair, but Matt seems still very, very uncomfortable.

He looks down at himself again, lips between his teeth, seeming a little dismayed and a lot unsettled, but then nods hesitantly.

Phasma isn’t happy about his unease. Yes, she and Techie talked about what is going to happen here and where the rough boundaries lie, but she realises that Techie might have told Matt less than she thought he did.

“Matt?” She asks gently to get his attention. “I’m not going to take your cock into my cunt, so if you’re worried about that, that’s not going to happen.”

She knows it’s blunt, but the way he rears back, his face for a second scandalised, makes her snicker involuntarily. He instantly flushes red and turns his head away.

She cringes.

“I’m sorry,” she apologises quickly, feeling like a total arse.

“’S okay,” he mumbles, his face still red.

Phasma looks at Techie, a bit at a loss on how to proceed here. Techie just nods at her encouragingly while he draws a finger tenderly down Matt’s spine. The gesture seems to reassure him a little and he takes a deep breath before he leans back a bit, opening himself up to her a little more.

His erection has waned somewhat and Phasma takes it as a point of pride to rectify that.

Taking her time, she draws a single finger - blunt nail scratching and leaving a light red streak where the skin flushes underneath it - down Matt’s chest towards his cock, before she gently closes her hand around it. She gives it a squeeze and a drawn-out, lazy pull.

The slightly lubricated barrier pulls at the skin and Matt trembles, sucking in a deep breath and biting his lips, while his eyes are fixed on her hand in his lap.

“You’ve got a nice cock, Matt.” Her gentle, honest praise settles him, making him flush again, but less violently, more in pleasure and possibly pride.

“I tell him that all the time,” Techie murmurs, his gaze equally fixed on her hand, “but he never believes me.”

Matt whines helplessly at that, trying to hide his face in Techie’s chest.

Techie wraps a hand protectively over his face.

“It’s just big,” Matt mumbles against his chest.

“And that’s a problem?” Phasma asks a little incredulously. She knows a lot of guys who’d be very happy about that.

He turns to her and his gaze is direct and a little petulant as he speaks, “Yeah, if that’s the only thing that matters about me.”

Techie hugs him tightly, murmuring, “But it's not, it's not,” over and over, stroking his face, his chest and his neck.

Matt’s eyes slide away from her, obviously embarrassed by his own admission.

For a moment Phasma is unsure how to handle this, but then she decides to go about it like she does with everything in life: direct and without restraint.

She cups both hands around Matt's face and turns him to look at her.

“Matt,” she says gently, steadily. He finds it visibly hard to hold her gaze, but he does, his mouth set in a determined line.

“I didn't know what your cock looked like. And honestly, it doesn't much matter to me. That’s not the reason I’m here.” Both her thumbs stroke his cheekbones slowly. “I like you. And I like Techie. Because you're wonderful people.”

He frowns, then turns his head to look at Techie, who smiles encouragingly at him, and then back at her.

He nods, once, still looking rather determined and grim.

She regards him for a moment, gauging whether he really is okay. When she is satisfied, her face breaks out in a wide, predatory grin.

“And now, sweet Matt,” she mocks gently, “lean back and let me have my way with you.”

His eyes widen comically and his mouth drops open. He splutters something, but it is lost when Techie pulls him back on the bed, arranging himself next to his head, stroking his forehead lovingly. His eyes click softly as they focus on him and him alone.

Matt is breathing hard, his eyes still huge as Phasma moves above him and straddles his hips. He clearly doesn’t know where to place his hands, so he keeps them rigidly by his sides.

Instead of taking him inside her, Phasma lowers her hips and slides against his barrier covered length in one broad stroke, gliding her wetness along the whole length, pushing down so his cock creates delicious friction and pressure against her clit and labia.

Matt shouts at the sudden stimulation, his back subtly arching. His hands clamp hard around her thighs, not so much trying to control her as to hold on.

He vibrates with the tension of holding back and not giving into his desire to thrust against her. He tries so hard to let her do as she pleases and it infuses her chest and gut with fiery warmth.

Her movements are slick, her juices smearing into his pubic hair as she undulates her hips back and forth, rubbing herself against him.

She moans, rutting harder, stroking her hands over Matt’s, gently coaxing them to let go.

Matt has his eyes squeezed shut and teeth gritted, but he manages to get himself a little more under control and peeks at her through one slitted eye.

She grins broadly down at him, letting her hips roll forwards.

His breathing stutters and flutters unsteadily out of him, but he opens his eyes and looks longingly up at her, while he rubs his face into Techie’s hand still cradling his head.

His brown eyes are huge and liquid and awe shines in them again.

Phasma is immensely pleased and guides one of Matt’s hands to her left breast.

It had been rather obvious earlier that he wanted to touch them, but didn’t dare.

He moans quietly, intensely focused on the handful of supple flesh he cradles, stroking his fingers around the mound and up as far towards her collarbones as he can reach and back again.

“You like breasts, Matt?” Phasma teases, although she knows the answer.

He nods quickly, his eyes flicking up to her face for a moment, before they are again solely fixed on her breast in his hand. He is worrying his lips between his teeth and they glisten a little with spit, red and swollen.

Phasma sighs, enjoying the gentle swell of arousal she creates between her legs with the slippery slide against his cock.

She pushes forwards and back again, Matt’s hand following her chest, mewling softly as his fingertips nearly lose contact when she slides back.

Techie leans a little towards her, caressing her shoulder, smiling almost beatifically at her.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he whispers, sounding happy and a little bit in awe himself. Phasma is not sure if he means Matt or herself or both of them. It doesn’t much matter anyway.

Techie looks back at Matt, who pants and moans underneath her unhurried, rolling movements against him.

He shifts a little so he can run a finger over Matt’s lips, coaxing them free from the grip of his teeth.

Techie’s other hand on her shoulder gently slides over the crest between shoulder and neck, squeezing reassuringly, before it slides down over her collarbone and lower.

He gropes her right breast unthinkingly until Phasma snorts at his absentminded, dreamily disassociated behaviour.

“Yeah, you really aren’t into women, are you,” she comments dryly.

Techie’s gaze jumps to where his hand is still kneading her breast in a gentle but completely unerotic manner, to her face, and back again. “Oh.” He frowns. “Oh, I’m s-sorry,” he mumbles, quickly drawing his hand away. But Phasma catches it, and places it back on her breast, keeping her hand over his, hoping it will calm him.

“They – your breasts – they just feel so nice,” Techie comments awkwardly. “So soft and, uh, squish- I mean – uh – malleable?” His voice rises about an octave at the end and Phasma can see the embarrassed blush starting to blotch his chest and neck.

“Hey, it’s nice for me, too. So by all means, squish away.” She gives him her most winning smile. Many have commented how dangerous and unsettling it looks on her face, but Techie seems to be calmed by it. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t see her as the Captain very often and so his view of her isn’t tainted by what she does for a living.

She closes her eyes and rolls her hips in long swathes while two gentle hands cradle and stroke her breasts, making her feel tight and high strung, but also pleasantly buzzing and warm.

Matt’s small, breathy moans are a wonderful backdrop to her unhurried rocking, an accompaniment to her climbing lust.

She hears the soft whirr and click of Techie’s eyes as they change focus and she opens hers to find his gaze.

He nods at her and points with his chin behind her.

She grins. Oh yeah, and then there is that...

“Sorry Matt,” she breathes as she lifts off of him, accompanied by his disappointed whine. It morphs to a longing sigh as she moves away and he has to let her breast go.

Phasma carefully pulls the barrier off and Matt looks actually saddened when she drops it in the little bin nearby.

Matt is nicely flushed and panting. His cock lies hard and flat against his belly.

She steps to the side on slightly unsteady legs and watches Matt in fascination and with a sudden hot pang inside her gut, as he draws his fingers through his wet pubic hair, gathering her slick. He studies his moist fingers for a moment frowning in concentration and then promptly sticks them into his mouth, moaning softly around them.

Her own groan is almost in answer to his.

This is not an image she is quick to forget. And now she feels even hungrier and just plain _predatory_. She could devour him and she is pretty sure Matt would let her. Gladly.

Techie told her where they kept their toys and so she quickly rummages in the small box for the strap-on.

“Black with red sparkles?” She asks with a raised eyebrow as she turns, the strap-on dangling from her finger in its harness of fine bantha leather. It swings lazily from side to side. “Is this some kind of statement?”

Matt flushes an embarrassed red, while Techie beams at her.

Matt’s obsession with Kylo Ren is almost legendary but Phasma never thought it would extend to his choice of sex toys. Though the way he is growing beet red now while Techie by contrast is looking rather smug and proud suggests that this has been bought by Techie as a gift for Matt once. Phasma silently applauds Techie’s sly humour.

“I’ll help you, Sill,” Techie offers politely, yet eager.

She nods.

Phasma always liked how her name sounds in his dialect. She has no idea where he is from – by the scars and tattoos nowhere nice – but while she can detect he is from the Outer Rim somewhere, the way he speaks Basic, the slightly mumbling lilt makes it sound a little exotic, yet soft and flowing. It makes her name sound less harsh. Or maybe that is just because he speaks it and he is anything but harsh. She really likes this about him. He is fierce, but never harsh.

Matt isn’t either for that matter, but he is more imposing by his physique and his outbursts, of course. If he were Force sensitive or wielding a lightsaber he would give Kylo Ren a run for his credits.

Though the way his gaze lingers on them now as she inserts the bulbous, barrier-covered end of the strap-on into herself – damn, she’s positively dripping – and Techie slides the straps around her hips, makes him look more like a lost vornskr pup, who just realised it would get a treat. A very, very _nice_ treat.

Techie fastens the supple leather straps at her sides and inspects the placement of the strap-on in front. Straightening, he looks up at her. “Okay?” He asks.

She nods, not quite trusting her voice. She is still looking at Techie and their gazes lock. She doesn’t know what passes between her and him, but something definitely does. He leans in and so does she, pulled by something towards him.

Their lips meet. A soft brush of supple flesh on flesh, unhurried and intimate in its simplicity.

There is choked groaning coming from the bed.

“Oh,” Techie breathes, pulls back and looks at her, brows knitted, astonished, completely ignoring Matt whimpering on the bed, “I like kissing you.” His confusion is not really that surprising, seeing as Techie is as gay as they come.

“I do, too,” Phasma answers, no less surprised and brushes her lips against his again. She has never kissed like this and assumes neither has Techie. It is not clouded by sexual desire, but infused with warmth and closeness and trust. They like the contact and connection the gesture brings.

Matt is still whining in the background, obviously _very much_ sexually involved, if his pitiful whimpering is anything to go by.

“Oh shush you!” Phasma admonishes playfully stern and Matt snaps his mouth shut and bites his lips to keep quiet. But his eyes follow their every move, as Techie steps behind her, probably vanishing from view altogether behind her bulk, until his slim, long hands reach around, giving the strap on a long, suggestive pull.

Phasma cannot feel the pull itself but the way it makes the other end of the strap-on jerk inside her. She shudders with a moan, her internal muscles clamping down on the toy.

Matt swallows audibly.

“Mattie,” Techie breathes behind her and it tickles her neck, “She’s going to fuck you so well.”

Phasma grins wolfishly as Matt’s hips give an involuntary twitch and his cock bobs a bit, clear fluid welling up from the tip and drooling sluggishly down his long shaft.

Techie makes a twirling motion with one hand, while still holding her cock in the other. It must look very odd from Matt’s point of view, she gathers, as if she has suddenly grown another pair of arms. Like some ancient goddess of long ago.

He certainly looks at her as if she was. He doesn’t move right away. His gaze drops to the black cock jutting out from her hips, Techie’s slender fingers wrapped loosely around it, the red glitter sparkling.

He has to visibly tear himself away when he turns finally and flops rather gracelessly down on the bed, only to growl in slight discomfort. Matt reaches underneath himself to rearrange his own stiff cock, so it doesn’t lie at quite such an uncomfortable angle. As he settles, he sighs, crossing his muscular arms under his head, resting his face on them and waits patiently.

“He’s being so good, isn’t he, Sill?” Techie asks her playfully, pointing at Matt’s back with a grin, pointing out the tension suddenly springing up in the muscles between his shoulderblades and releasing in a small tremble at Techie’s words.

Phasma grins. He is indeed being good.

“Sweet Matt,” she agrees, her voice breathy and is rewarded with another small tremble and a subtle change in Matt’s breathing.

Techie’s grin widens even more, obviously liking to play this game. He saunters over and makes himself comfortable near Matt’s head before he waves her over.

Phasma follows and crawls over Matt, making sure her knees brush against his calves and thighs as she climbs higher, the cock between her legs dragging against his skin.

Matt’s shoulders twitch and then he unfolds his arms from under his head, letting them rest loosely above his head, but his fingers close around a fistful of sheets.

They bury deeper as Phasma’s cock slots neatly between his cheeks, the silicone catching on his skin.

Phasma leans down to brush her lips against this back, but pulls back at the last moment.

“Can I kiss you, Matt?”

Matt grows still and lifts his head to look at Techie questioningly, who shrugs. “It’s your decision, Mattie, I’m okay with it.” He grins and leans over, his grin turning positively wicked. “After all, I kissed her earlier.” He leans even closer, whispering, but in such a stage whisper Phasma can clearly hear him. “And her kisses are _so_ good!”

Matt shivers. Phasma can feel it running down his body, even as minute as it is.

His head drops back down as if invisible strings have been cut. His upper back is now slightly curved, the perfect tableau for her.

“Yes, please,” he croaks meekly.

He moans weakly as her lips caress Matt’s spine, wandering in ever growing circles towards his neck. The strap-on catches on Matt's skin, pulling and sliding irregularly, making the other end jolt inside her deliciously. Her breaths come in shorter, wet puffs at the sparks of sensation it creates.

Matt can obviously hear her changed breathing and he grows restless underneath her. Goosebumps are springing up under her lips now and Phasma decides it’s the perfect time to add some tongue.

Matt wails, his spine stiffening, his fingers clawing at the sheets, crumpling them in his strong hands.

Phasma is delighted at his responsiveness. She has never had a man like Matt, outwardly the image of hyper-masculinity, and yet one who could be reduced to a whimpering mess by kind kisses. She nips him playfully and his breath hitches sharply before rushing out of him in a shivering moan, making him practically melt underneath her.

Matt now looks like someone poured him onto the bed. Only his hips gyrate in little circles.

At first Phasma thinks he is rutting shamelessly against the sheets, until she realises he is actually pushing his arse back against her.

“Are you desperate for her cock, Mattie?” Techie whispers, combing his fingers through Matt's unruly hair lovingly.

Matt just nods in eager silence, apparently reduced to non-verbal, soft whines.

Techie looks up at Phasma, smiling openly, nodding.

She leans back, regretting having to let Matt's back go for now. She comforts herself with the thought that she can come back to it later. She shuffles a little further down until she straddles his thighs, spreading her legs, so Matt has a bit more space between them to spread his. He does so obligingly, presenting his arse as best as he can and to Phasma's simultaneous delight and slight disappointment she sees a flash of colour peeking out between his cheeks. She would have loved to finger Matt open. To think how he would have reacted to that, if he reacts so strongly to her only kissing him. But the view of the plug wedged between his reddened cheeks is ample compensation.

There is so much lube it glistens around his stretched muscle holding on tightly to the toy.

She licks her lips and grabs the plug, her fingers sliding on the smooth surface made even more slippery by the slick all over it.

Instead of pulling it out, however, she pushes against it as she leans forwards again, making Matt moan sharply.

“Techie got you nice and ready for me, didn't he?” She purrs in his ear. It reddens almost instantly, flaming crimson.

“Tell me, Matt, how was it?”

Matt mewls, squirming under her, caught between the impulses to get away from the sparking sensations her insistent pushing on the plug creates, but at the same time to rub himself against it, working it deeper.

He looks helplessly at Techie, his face flushed red, looking for mercy.

Techie just grins. There is no mercy to be found here.

“Go on, tell her, Mattie.”

Matt sobs once, burying his face in the mattress, mumbling something unintelligibly.

Phasma pulls on the plug quickly, pulling it out a bit, before letting go so it slides back, sucked in greedily by Matt's muscles working around it, Matt’s shudders and keens muffled by the sheets.

“C'mon, Matt,” Phasma goads, not unkindly, “Let me hear your beautiful voice.”

Matt's head snaps up at that and he cranes it awkwardly around to look at her. He looks suspicious, but also confused.

Phasma needs a moment to read his expression. When she finally does, she feels her heart twinge.

Techie has woven his hand back into Matt’s hair scratching his scalp gently by the time she stretches out a hand and strokes her knuckles softly down his slightly stubbly cheek and jaw.

“Oh Hon,” she croons earnestly, “I like hearing you.”

He still doesn't look convinced.

“You sound wonderful, Matt. You really do. I'd like to hear more, hear you while I fuck you. I'd like to know that you like it.”

Matt squeezes his eyes shut tightly, his face flaming.

Techie inches closer, cradling Matt’s face in his other hand, still massaging his scalp soothingly, wandering down to his neck now. “I told you she'd like you, Matt. She loves your voice like I do.” He places a small, coaxing kiss on his cheekbone. “Would you like to share it with her?”

Matt is still for a moment, clearly thinking about it. Then he hesitantly starts to speak in his mumbling and slow way he gets when he is flustered and feeling shy.

“I... liked it. Phasma – _Sill_ , I... I liked to think that you... would.... that you would f-fuck me.” He holds his breath then, seemingly steeling himself for her reaction.

Phasma rubs his back gently, soothing.

“Is that what you thought about when Techie worked you open?” She cannot help but ask, her predatory grin back in her voice. She likes playing with her catch.

“Oh Gods,” Matt whimpers weakly to himself, “I …”

She nudges the plug gently.

“Yes! Yes, I did and I.... _kriff_ .... I … his fingers felt so good, but – but I knew you'd.... you'd fuck me later. Oh kriffing _Gods_....” Whatever else he means to say deteriorates into a shivering, drawn out moan.

“Thank you, Matt,” Phasma breathes against his ear and gives it a soft nip. Then she draws back, sitting back on his lower thighs and carefully works the toy free from its snug grasp to the sound of Matt’s hitched breathing.

At Techie's dismissive gesture, she lets the plug drop unceremoniously to the floor.

Phasma grabs a cheek each and spreads them wide.

Matt groans, burying his head in the mattress again, his face no doubt flaming anew at being so on display.

She wonders briefly how long Techie must have spent on Matt to get him this loose.

Techie crawls over, half his body covering Matt's. He rests his chin on the back of one hand on one of Matt's cheeks and looks up at her before he flicks his gaze down to Matt’s hole. His other hand strokes her thigh gently, absentmindedly.

“We took our time getting ready,” Techie says openly. “I made sure Mattie'd be perfect for you.” He beams up at her then. “You like him?” He asks curiously.

There is only a weak groan coming from somewhere above deeply buried in the mattress. But Phasma notices how Matt's hole twitches invitingly.

“Yes.” She almost chokes on how dry her throat is all of a sudden, before her whole mouth is flooded in an abrupt wave of greedy saliva.

“Hang on,” Techie says and props himself up on Matt's cheek. He takes a buttock each in one of his delicate, but long hands and pulls them back. Matt groans barely audible.

“I'll hold him open for you, while you slide in,” Techie adds helpfully.

A whimpering “fuck, fuck, fuuuuck” drifts down from further up as Matt thumps the mattress with a fist, whimpering and mewling.

Ignoring him - he seems to be doing fine - Phasma aims the head of the strap-on with slightly trembling fingers, not so much from nerves, but from anticipatory tension.

Matt is glorious like this underneath her and Techie's innocently playful nature make this so perfect.

Her fake cock, the red glitter sparkling, slides in past the twitching, grasping muscle with little resistance. She can feel the pressure the toy in turn creates inside her. Gasping softly, she stops then and lets Matt adjust a little. A plug is one thing, but this strap-on is a lot longer than the other toy.

Techie watches with focused curiosity as the tip of the strap-on slowly vanishes inside his lover.

He leans over then, resting his forehead against hers and they both stare down at where Matt’s hole stretches open around the black-red toy.

“Thank you, Techie.” Phasma cradles his face in her hand and she kisses him in thanks.

Techie responds to her with the same gentle enthusiasm of before. Their lips are sliding and catching against each other lazily for a moment, unhurried and companionable.

Phasma’s hips subtly inch forwards while she kisses, driving the strap-on slowly, gently deeper, accompanied by a continuous, high-pitched sob from below.

Techie finally takes pity on his partner and shuffles back up the bed, dragging his nails sharply up Matt’s back while he does.

Matt shudders and moans, his muscles tightening, pulling a little at the strap-on, making the other end tip inside her. Phasma gasps, holding on to one of his cheeks to ground herself.

“Fuck, Matt,” she moans and he tightens his muscles again purely for her benefit. Her hand spasms around the handful of flesh, digging her fingers in, as her insides spark with pleasure and she groans loudly.

She slowly, carefully pushes her hips forwards watching in fascination as the strap-on vanishes inside Matt.

Matt moans and tries to angle his arse upwards to work with her. So she pulls back a little and pushes back in deeper. The push and pull is echoed by the piece of the toy inside her rubbing and pushing against her walls, the feeling of pressure and stimulation swelling like a warming pressure wave.

Techie leans close to Matt, kissing him, their faces drawn sideways.

Phasma can see the pink of their tongues snaking out, connecting, sliding, the way they glisten wetly. She shudders and her hips snap forwards hard.

Underneath her Matt whimpers explosively, the sound caught by Techie’s mouth.

Matt fists the sheets in his hands hard, the knuckles white and straining, his whole body taught.

Phasma freezes, her eyes looking to Techie for guidance, but asks Matt. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Matt doesn’t move at all for a moment. Then he shakes his head sluggishly, as Techie answers, “No, I think he – he really liked it actually.” He brushes one hand through Matt’s blonde, perpetually tangled locks. They cling together with sweat and Techie uses them to tilt his head back. “Didn’t you, Mattie?”

Matt sighs and nods with his eyes still closed, his mouth slightly parted awaiting Techie’s lips and tongue. He looks blissed out, face flushed, hairline damp with sweat, eyes closed, brows drawn up in the middle and every breath flowing out of him on a small whimper. He looks especially gorgeous like this Techie decides yet again. Matt always looks gorgeous, but this is Techie’s favourite brand of gorgeousness.

Phasma tries another push, harder but careful, and Matt’s body tightens again, then relaxes in a jittery shudder.

It is like a delayed wave. She pushes in and her movement carries forwards into him, back straining, then calming and trembling beautifully.

He worms one of his hands back, searching blindly for her. He finds her knee and follows it up to the side of her thigh. His big hand stills against the muscle, holding on. He doesn’t grasp, or knead, just lets it rests against her skin, his fingers stroking gently when she isn’t buried deep inside him and he cannot concentrate on anything but the blinding pressure and slide of the strap-on inside him.

It is so very nice, she decides, comfortable and intimate in a way that makes her feel deeply connected on another level than the purely physical. Matt is aware who is fucking him, wants some kind of contact with her besides the strap-on in his arse. It makes her chest twinge a little.

“Harder?” he moans shyly, his voice wobbling. He doesn’t request or demand. He _asks_ , fully prepared to accept whatever she wants.

And so she leans over Matt, holding onto his broad shoulders for leverage. She snaps her hips forwards sharply, tries to keep a steady rhythm that is pleasurable for them both.

It is hard but satisfying work. She is fit and muscular, yes, but those particular muscles in that particular movement – well, she hasn’t had much opportunity to use them lately. _Lately_ being the better part of two years, she muses with an inward cringe. Kriff.

She starts to sweat, her muscles burning as she snaps her hips to the sound of Matt’s hiccupping moans pitching higher and higher. It sounds like he might be getting close.

He seems torn between pushing his arse out for her to fuck him harder and rubbing against the sheets. His cock must be aching.

Her sweat is dripping down on his back. She lets go of his shoulders, and instead levels her weight on her hands left and right of his flanks and pistons her hips forward sharply in short, jabbing thrusts. The muscles in her arse and lower back are burning, protesting the vigorous exercise she puts them through.

Matt sobs, but his aborted rutting against the sheets only seems to get more desperate.

“You want my hand, love?” Techie asks. He only gets a whimpering sob in answer and wriggles down next to Matt, worming a hand underneath him.

The sharp shout and arching spine, presenting his arse even more for her tells Phasma that Techie has wrapped his hand around Matt, stroking in short little jerks.

Although his eyes are closed tightly Matt has his face turned towards Techie, who watches him writhe and mewl with rapt attention.

Phasma is panting hard, trying to draw more air into her lungs. Her whole body is infused with warmth and that tightening tingling, but the unaccustomed workout is tiring her out. She knows she won’t be able to come like this, but she desperately wants to see Matt finish and it is difficult to hit his prostate on every thrust with a cock that her nervous system is not connected to.

With a huff of annoyance at herself she pulls out, bracing her weight on one arm.

Matt whimpers, stiffening, then cries out sharply, as she shoves two fingers bluntly into him, crooking them.

She shoves into him in short, quick jabs, making him tremble and whimper continuously.

His whole body draws tighter and tighter, his hands grab the sheets so fiercely he is in danger of ripping them and Phasma can see Techie on Matt’s other side working his hand fast underneath him, but Matt seems to need something more. That last little push.

Following sudden inspiration she leans over Matt’s back again and sticks her tongue out. She fucks her fingers roughly inside him and crooks them, pressing down as hard as she can while she licks a long, broad swipe up his spine to his neck.

Matt wails, his body freezing suddenly, back arched in a bow towards her, chasing that wet sensation. He makes little hiccuping moans, fluttery and reedy, and then convulses hard in waves and waves of wrecking shudders.

His moans sound like sobs as he trembles and Phasma thinks he might actually be crying. She nuzzles his neck affectionately, trying to support him by her presence alone.

Techie on the other side of him has snuggled as close as he can, kissing Matt’s face and stroking his hair and flank, whispering to him as he shakes, words Phasma cannot make out.

She carefully pulls her fingers out of him, earning herself a weak quake. Staying close, her heated, sweaty skin as much in contact with him as is possible, Phasma lies down fully next to Matt.

She is wet and horny, sweaty and hot, and her muscles burn and twinge.

She looks at the man she reduced to a twitching, whimpering mess beside her and feels amazing.

Smiling to herself, Phasma caresses Matt’s back in long, soothing strokes, delighting at the small twitches and trembles still coursing through him. He is mewling softly, snuffling his face into the crook of Techie’s neck, while he tries to push his back towards her.

She kisses his shoulder gently and shuffles even closer.

Matt sighs.

They stay like this for a while and she even closes her eyes, nearly dozing off, but then reluctantly draws away. She cannot stay much longer, as much as she would like to.

Techie looks at her questioningly when she gets up, pulling the strap-on free with a small shudder of her own.

“Short shift change,” she answers his unspoken question. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”

Matt makes a small distressed sound and rolls laboriously onto his back. His brown eyes are half-lidded and heavy, but she still detects something that is probably supposed to be a frown.

Techie plants a smooching kiss on Matt’s forehead and gets up as well, taking the strap-on from her.

“You haven’t come, have you?” Techie asks and she shakes her head with a small smile that is a little rueful.

“Maybe Matt can... you know, with his mouth?”

Matt makes a small garbled sound.

“It’s okay, Techie,” Phasma says, looking for her panties. “I actually need to sleep at some point.”

“Are you sure, Sill?” Techie asks. “I think Mattie wouldn’t mind _at all_.” He grins mischievously. The garbled sound comes again from the bed, more insistent.

Phasma looks at Matt, who looks delirious and sluggish in his post coital bliss, long limbs flopping, but who still tries to give her his most enthusiastic reaction. Which turns out to be a rather leery, but askew grin and an uncoordinated wave of one big hand, managing only to hit himself in the face.

Phasma laughs, the sound full throated and relaxed. “Nah, Techie. I’m good.”

She draws him close, the slim man nearly vanishing completely in her hug, and places a deft kiss in his riot of ginger hair.

“This has been good,” she says, adding with a twinkle in her eye, “And it’s going to keep me _entertained_ in my own bed for a while, believe me.”

Matt actually blushes at that.

Phasma makes a soundless, mocking “aww” and gives his thigh a playful slap. He twitches and makes a noise that never quite makes it to a yelp.

She leans over to place a soft kiss against his cheek and feels his head angle towards her to do the same, albeit a lot less coordinated.

“Thank you,” Matt mumbles, still a little slower than usual.

“My pleasure,” she says as she draws back, “believe me. _My_ pleasure.”

 


End file.
